


John 50.5

by phantisma



Series: Ages [29]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-16
Updated: 2007-03-16
Packaged: 2017-11-14 00:26:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/509370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantisma/pseuds/phantisma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU - John's POV.  John is freed from his demon captor, but has to find his own way back to the boys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	John 50.5

He was fairly certain he was still 50…when he took the time to think about anything beyond where he was and what was happening at any given moment. He’d thought about it before…what hell would be like. Thinking about it, imagining it does nothing to prepare someone for the reality though.

He’d known that going in, as much as someone can know something like that.

It was a good trade.

His life for Daniel’s. His grandson was with Dean. It was good. It was right. Besides, John Winchester figured hell was where he would have ended up anyway.

It was enough. Knowing that Daniel was safe. That he would have a chance to live.

That’s what he told himself. Repeated it endlessly in his head through the torment.

He’d begun cataloguing, rating…which he realized was probably self defeating. It only brought the bad ones round more often. He thought the first few days were maybe the worst. The pitch black darkness…the crawling over his skin like tiny insects with teeth that scratched and bit…the crying…endless crying….it seemed petty compared to the days when he was flayed slowly with surgical precision, or the ones when he was burned in a vat of molten metal…but it was the not knowing…the suspense…the waiting…

He’d de-sanctified a small circle in the basement of the church and used one of Daniel’s blankets to summon the demon holding him. It hadn’t been hard to convince it that he was the better hostage…that Dean would fight just as hard for him…that Dean would do what the demon wanted.

Of course the demon only wanted its rivals eliminated so that it could rise up in their place…and the way it’s eyes lit up as John offered himself was disturbing…but John was willing to pay the price so Daniel could be free. He’d do it again. Despite it all.

Time didn’t exist there…or it did, but it had rules John couldn’t begin to understand. Single moments, like that first excruciating blow from a cat-o-nine tails made of bone and teeth, or the moment a fingernail gave way to the pulling and tore from skin…they seemed to last forever…just hovering as if the pain itself were able to stop the movement of existence. Other moments…the brief respite as his body healed, when the torment ended, but for the feeling of skin re-growing and muscles repairing, those were gone before he could appreciate them.

It was one such fleeting moment, laying broken and bloody and half incoherent on the floor of some flat expanse that it came…still another…There were whispers all around him and John couldn’t begin to follow them as demons gathered and fought and then there was one in his face. “I have bought your freedom John Winchester…but if you wish to return to the world above, you must do so under your own power. Are you strong enough to crawl out of hell like one of us?”

It pulled John to his feet and pointed…as if there were directions or landmarks or something to go by. John didn’t bother with questions…he was half convinced it was a trick anyway, but he started moving.

He didn’t look behind him, he ran. He ran with everything he had left within him, which admittedly wasn’t a whole hell of a lot. Everything was unreal and as he fell for the third time, he could feel the clawing at his ankles as the lesser demons started to catch on to what he was doing, where he was going. He didn’t know if they were trying to stop him or trying to catch a ride, but he shook them off as he climbed to his feet again.

The landscape of hell resembled some nightmare from during his tour with the marines…unreal and laced with dangers both real and imagined…and no way to tell which were which. Unarmed, John worked his way over terrain that seemed to erupt without warning, spewing molten rock and steam.

Half-light and shadows were swallowed in absolute dark, then he found it. He didn’t know how he knew…but he did. Like a solid rock wall, it rose up from the ground and stretch upward and all he had to do was reach it and climb. Climb.

Of course, it wasn’t that easy. Between him and it were the hordes of demons attempting the same climb, the ones trying to tear their way out of hell to find some unsuspecting human to claim until they rode them into death or got exorcised.

John stood in the dark and watched. His eyes scanned the wall and tried to find the path up. Demons climbed and fell. Several made it out of sight, disappearing above. “Okay John. You can do this.”

Forget the burns on his legs or the way his body hurt. Forget that his head felt like it would explode in the heat. Forget that it was likely just a trick, a means to torment him more. Just do it. Concentrate on this one thing.

He put his head down and tried to make himself as compact as possible as he started his run. At first the crowd of demons parted for him, as if he’d startled them, then they were closing in, clawing at him. “Human” hissed all around him as claws dug into his skin.

Then he felt rock under his hands and he clawed at it, pulling himself up against the tide of hands and talons and god only knew what else pulling at him. Somewhere above him, his boys waited. Somewhere above…The rock itself was hot to the touch, and he could feel the weight of bodies hanging from him as he pulled.

Demons fell from above, one hitting him with enough force, he thought he was done, but he held on. Held on and found a way to steady himself. Found a way to take another few inches. Then another few.

He learned quickly not to look down. Between the height and the swarming masses below him it was easy to become disoriented and dizzy. Looking up wasn’t much better. At some point he had crawled up under a demon who leered at him and tried to stomp on his head. John spared a hand to grab its foot and pull it down, sending it plummeting into the chaos below.

One hand, one foot…inches, sometimes barely that…days passed…or maybe it was only hours…time’s movement was unpredictable…but he knew the moment that the oppressive heat of hell because the sweet kiss of the sun…knew the moment sulfur laden air gave way to smog…It was blinding and he was squeezing his eyes closed as he pulled himself free of the ground which was sucking at him, trying to hold him. He screamed and pulled and collapsed.

He was vaguely aware of screaming, or horns and people yelling. His body was doing it’s own screaming, a cacophony of pain from torn and burned skin, from bones stressed to the breaking point and muscles ripped from the strain. He rolled to his back and opened his eyes, regretting it as everything whited out and he groaned into the concrete below him.

 

His next real conscious thought was of voices asking for his name, of hands scrambling over his body and he pulled back, pulled away. He opened his eyes, but didn’t see anything. He yelled, he could hear his voice this small scratchy sound. “Sam. Dean.” He needed them. Needed to know they were okay.

“Lie still, sir. We’re going to get you to the hospital. We’re going to take care of you.” A voice said. There was the prick of a needle in his arm. “Can you tell us your name?”

John licked his lips. These were people, not demons. “John. John Winchester.”

“Good. Mr. Winchester, can you tell us what happened to you?”

He could, but they’d just lock him up in the psych ward when he was stable. He shook his head. “No…don’t…don’t remember…”

“He’s lost a lot of blood. Heart beat’s irregular.”

“Okay, let’s—“

John lost track of their words, lost in the pain still making itself known in new places as he tried to hold on. “Sam. Dean.” He wasn’t even sure he was saying the words out loud anymore…He was drifting, unsure he was even there…and then it all quiet.

 

The sound of monitors beeping greeted him when he was next aware of anything. He opened his eyes slowly, but still couldn’t see anything. He raised one hand and pressed it to his face. Blindfolded. No. He felt gauze pads. Bandages. He didn’t remember damaging his eyes.

He remembered other injuries. He couldn’t really feel much. He moved his toes and they seemed to respond. His hands obviously worked. He was slowly aware that he wasn’t alone. “Hello?” His voice was harsh, hoarse and raw.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Mr. Winchester.”

It was a pleasant enough voice. “Where am I?”

“You’re in the critical care ward at Country General, Mr. Winchester. My name is Dr. Dankin.”

“What happened?”

“We were hoping you could tell us.”

John shook his head. His mind was filled with nightmare images of his time in hell, of his crawl out of hell. “Don’t know…I…the earth opened up and I fell in. Then I was here.” He pressed hands to his eyes again. “What’s wrong with my eyes?”

“Flash burns, by the look of them. The damage is…pretty extensive. With any luck you’ll get some vision back. Your other injuries are much more severe. We thought we’d lost you more than once.”

“My boys…my sons…”

“Your son Sam has been by to see you everyday since you came in.” John could feel the man fiddling with the IV in his arm. “He should be here soon.”

“Dean?”

There was a silence in the air that made John’s stomach turn. “Where’s Dean?”

“Dad?” Sam’s voice was soothing, despite the tremor in it.

“Sam?” John held up one hand and felt Sam’s slide into it. “Sam…god…where’s your brother? What’s going on?”

“Calm down. I’ll tell you everything. Just relax.” John got the impression Sam was turning away from him. “I’d like some time alone with him please.”

“Of course. Take your time. I’ll send the nurse in with pain meds in about an hour.”

John heard the door closed and Sam was suddenly close, leaning over him to kiss his cheek. “I have to be quiet…if they knew…god Dad.”

“Sam?”

“Okay…they think I think Dean is dead, and we have to play along…just until we can get you out of here, get you someplace safe. You aren’t as bad as they want us to believe. I’ve managed to steal your charts and make copies, had some med students I knew at Stanford take a look at them.”

“What? Is the whole hospital involved, Sam?” John asked, his hands moving to cup Sam’s face.

“No, not the whole staff, Dad…just…enough. The whole thing is insane. Dr. MacAfferty…she’s got to be in charge of the whole thing. Dean’s…Dean’s convinced she’s working for the demon that took Daniel.”

“Azre.” John whispered, remembering the name then wincing as his body remembered what had happened the one other time he’d said it out loud.

“Now that you’re awake, we’ll try to get you out of here.”

“I’m not sure I can even move.”

“I know. Jeremy, the med-student, he says that’s probably the drugs. Your injuries are intense, but you’re recovering. We’ll have to keep an eye on the gashes in your back. They were pretty infected…but we’ve gotten ourselves a stash of anti-biotics and pain killers. The city still hasn’t recovered from the earthquake…and there’s still a curfew in place…but we’re working a plan to get around it.”

“Earthquake?” John was filling a little dizzy with information. “Slow down Sam. I don’t understand.”  
Sam lifted their joined hands and pressed John’s to his cheek. “So much has happened and I forget that you weren’t here for most of it. Which, by the way, was stupid and reckless.”

“But Daniel’s okay?”

“Yes, Daniel’s fine. Learning to talk.”

John felt relief flood him and he exhaled slowly. “Then it was worth it.”

“We thought we’d lost you, Dad…just as we were getting to really know you.”

“I did what I though was right, Sam.”

Sam was quiet then and they sat that way a while before John tried to shift his position. He could feel the stitches then, feel the way his skin pulled.

“I thought I might find you here, Sam.” John felt Sam stiffen, his hand sliding out of John’s as he turned.

“Dr. MacAfferty.”

“You missed your last appointment.”

“Yeah…I’m sorry. I was watching Daniel. Jenny didn’t get home from work in time.”

“I was worried.”

“I’m good…I’m just visiting with my father.”

“I see that. Hello Mr. Winchester. I’m Dr. MacAfferty. I’ve been treating your son.”

John wasn’t even sure what to say to that. It was strange how quiet and small Sam suddenly seemed with her in the room. “If you should find yourself needing to talk, I’d be happy to make some time for you.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary, thank you Dr.” John said, anger flushing through him. This was the woman responsible for Dean’s condition, for the drugs and the way his head was so fucked up.

“I’ll have my secretary reschedule our appointment Sam. How’s tomorrow for you?”

“Yeah,…tomorrow’s good.”

John felt Sam leave his side, heard the door closed. “Sam? What is she saying?”

“I’m playing her game Dad. I have to for now. When I came to…after everything…I was already here, in the psych ward.”

“She’s got you on drugs.” John sighed. “God Sam. Didn’t you see what Dean went through?”

“Yeah, Dad. I saw, I know. Right now it’s the only thing that’s keeping her from suggesting the state take Daniel away from us. She’s already hinted that it would be better if Kaitlyn’s parents take him.”

Sam came to sit on the bed. “Just rest, relax…don’t talk. Dean…has a plan.”

“I don’t like the sound of that.” John’s last few minutes with his son had been filled with tension. Dean had looked…frightening.

“It’s going to be okay. He’s…different.”

Different. He’d always been that. John nodded slowly. “Okay. Sam. I’ll wait. But not long.”

And only because he was pretty certain his body wasn’t ready yet. Wouldn’t be ready for a while. John would wait…and then he would wreak havoc on the demons responsible…and the people who served them.


End file.
